Suds and Shadows
by Emerald Kitten
Summary: If he'd been a better man he would have just kept walking. Continued on to his own cell and not thought twice about the sight he glimpsed behind those bars. Problem was, he wasn't a better man. Not really. Written in response to USS CARYL's 25 Days of Caryl Prompt Fall October 3 Smut Challenge: All tied up. SMUT WARNING.


Daryl's watch shift had been thankfully uneventful that evening; a welcome occurrence considering that one-eyed bastard was still on the loose out past the safety of the prison fences. He had nothing to do but sit back and watch as shadows stretched further and further across the yard, engulfing the surrounding area in darkness until all traces of the previously sunny afternoon were extinguished entirely.

The sound of Rick's boots clanking against the metal staircase alerted Daryl to the man's imminent arrival for his own tour of watch duty. Within seconds of first hearing the approaching footfalls the former Sheriff's Deputy climbed up through the open hatch of the watchtower, a jar of green baby food jammed in his shirt pocket and his free arm wrapped securely around a cranky Asskicker, cradling the youngster against his chest. The tired man mumbled something about the kid refusing point-blank to keep any of the baby food down when others had tried to feed her, so here she was, taking watch with her father. Even Carol's gift with children hadn't been enough to satisfy the youngest Grimes; that night, the girl had eyes only for her daddy.

Rick chuckled, his voice a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as he recounted the story of how Judith had spit up her strained pea dinner all over Carol, _after_ the woman had spent the better part of the evening convincing the baby that the meal was something she actually wanted to try swallowing for a change.

Carol had excused herself to wash up and Rick was left holding the fussing youngster. That woman had the patience of a saint, but even Daryl could understand her need to hand the kid off to her father. Maybe Rick would have better luck than Carol at convincing the child the green, mushy mess was the best tasting thing in the whole world.

The hunter took his leave from the tower before Rick could enlist his help in trying to get Judith to eat the God-awful baby food. Knowing that Carol had been the one to end up wearing the green crap was enough to send Daryl back to the safety of C block.

He had expected to find some signs of life when he pulled open the prison door but instead of the usual laughter and chatter that seemed to play on a loop in the evenings the block was still. Except for the sound of Hershel's snoring bouncing around the darkened area, the prison was as silent as the grave.

Everyone had called it a night. The only explanation that made sense was that Judith's fussing had been enough to drive the majority of them in search of quieter digs. Daryl didn't blame them one bit for hightailing it. Jud had one hell of a set of pipes and when she wasn't happy, everyone suffered. The only person who was immune to the power of her cries was Hershel; that man could sleep through an air raid without stirring.

Daryl climbed the staircase, his steps silent out of habit more so than necessity. Having volunteered for the majority of night watches, he moved quietly around the prison so as not to disrupt any of the sleeping inhabitants. Once he'd reached the top of the stairs the hunter rounded the corner and headed towards his cage but a movement to the side caught his eye, causing the man to stop dead in his tracks and crane his neck in an effort to get a better view of exactly what was going on in the cell to his right.

If he was a better man - a man of honour like Carol had once told him he was - he would have ignored what he saw then and just kept walking. Continued on to his own cell and not thought twice about the sight he glimpsed behind those bars.

Problem was, he wasn't a better man. Not really.

Daryl knew he should move, but despite what his head was screaming at him to do his feet weren't co-operating. He stood, frozen to the spot like a deer caught in the headlights as he watched transfixed by what lay past that iron door. It wasn't an approaching car that had rendered him unable to move; it was the person inside he couldn't take his eyes off of, or more accurately, what they were doing while the rest of the block was deserted that had captured his undivided attention.

Carol stood in the middle of her cell, the light of a nearby lantern bathing the confined space in a soft yellow glow. The light cast by the battery powered device was poor, but he could see enough. More than enough.

She was naked. The woman was standing in the centre of the room, her back to the doorway and apparently unaware that she had gained an audience. It wasn't just that she was naked that had stopped him dead in his tracks; it was what she was doing inside that cell that made his heart beat erratically against his chest and his breath catch in his throat.

Carol was bathing. She stood in a shallow tub, a sponge in one hand and a bar of soap in the other as she worked to clean every inch of her body. The woman hummed an unfamiliar tune, continuing the ritual of running that sponge back and forth over her shoulder and neck, all the while remaining apparently oblivious to his presence.

He could see every pop and twist her spine as she moved, the muscles flexing with each sweep of her arms over the smooth skin of her back. She squeezed the sponge, releasing a cascade of suds over her neck and making the woman shiver in response as the water trickled slowly down the knots of her spine like fingers trailing systematically over piano keys.

The soft sounds of her shuddering breath was like a symphony playing, right there in C block.

For the first time in his life Daryl was thankful that Asskicker's screams had sent everyone else far away for the night.

Daryl swallowed, unable to drag his eyes away from the naked woman covered in bubbles. He melted back further into the shadows, letting the cover of darkness shroud him completely. It was wrong to watch her like that; he knew that much. If he'd caught another man standing in that exact same spot, watching _her_ like that…he would have killed them in a heartbeat.

Didn't stop him from staying there.

She had him all tied up, inside and out. Daryl felt like his boots were glued to the spot, forbidding him from moving even if he wanted to. His laces might as well have been expertly knotted to the cell bars. There was no chance he was leaving his vantage point in the shadows anytime soon.

He knew it made him a creep, watching her from the dark corner like some kind of peeping tom, but no matter how bad the situation was he couldn't tear his eyes away from the wet, naked vision standing in the centre of that cell. The lighting was poor but there was still enough juice in that tiny lantern to show him everything he could have ever dreamed of seeing.

He let his eyes rake over the woman standing in the cell, taking in the way her arms stretched and twisted as she struggled to connect with that elusive spot along her spine that she just couldn't reach, try as she might. Carol twisted, bringing the curve of her tit into sharp view as she moved. The woman continued to struggle to get that sponge where she wanted it until finally she arched her back, contorting further and turning just enough for him to make out a raised nipple standing against the handful-sized breast half covered in soap suds.

His own hand drifted down to his crotch, cupping the solid length straining against his zipper.

Watching Carol, naked and soapy had made him like that. In all honestly, Carol fully clothed had had that same effect on him before too. Thinking about what he'd like to do to her if he just in that same room had him slowly stroking his cock up and down through his cargos.

He couldn't help but wish he was in there with her, washing those hard to reach places.

God, he wished he had the balls to march in there and ask if she needed a hand. He was too much of a pussy to make a move though. Coming onto her when she was bathing wasn't the kind of guy he was.

For the first time in his life, Daryl wished he was a guy like that; a guy that wasn't afraid to say what he wanted when it came to _her._

The bar of soap in her hand fell to the floor, sliding across the concrete until it was lost in the shadows blanketing the edges of the small room. Carol brought both her hands together and raised them over her head, squeezing out the sponge as she did so and letting the suds wash over her like a waterfall. Daryl held his breath as a lone droplet of water slide down her shoulder and travelled slowly downward until it crested the swell of her breast, coming only to a halt when it landed on the pink bud poised there, hard and just begging to be touched.

God, what he wouldn't give to lick that water right from her body. Clean her with his tongue like one cat bathing another.

He'd make her purr like a kitten; that was for damn sure.

Man, he really was a Dixon; watching her like that and getting off on it. Silently, he shuffled forward, risking exposure just to catch a better glimpse of the woman standing in the tub. The only thing standing between him and her was the metal bars of the cell.

He could just imagine strutting into that cell like he owned the joint. He wondered exactly what Carol's wet skin would feel like beneath his rough hands. Would his palms slide over her like silk, or would the moisture have dried by the time he manned up and man a move? The thought of wrapping one arm around her waist and drawing the woman snuggly against his chest made the hunter tighten the hold he had on his cock. He'd slip his hand upward and palm the breast he'd caught a glimpse of earlier, pinching the nipple and making her moan. He closed his eyes, thinking about how his dick would then slot perfectly between the cleft of her ass as he grinded the hard length up and down the inviting space, grunting into her hair when the action only served to get him harder.

Gently he would let his free hand tease the apex of her thighs before slowly sinking a lone finger further south until he was buried knuckle deep in her pussy. Would she be already wet from feeling the evidence of his own arousal pressed tightly between them?

What he wouldn't give to hear Carol moan his name, just once as he pushed her over in the edge and into the abyss beyond.

The fantasy was getting too much to bear. Daryl cracked open his eyes, finding Carol still in the tub with her back to him as she went about bathing. He focused on the round shape of her behind, increasing the speed of his tugs and imagining the firm strokes he felt were coming from being nestled between the cleft of her ass and not his own hand pumping furiously at his dick. The quicker pace coupled with that mental image caused a grunt to escape his lips; the primal note coming out more deep and depraved than he thought possible.

That sound was enough to snap Daryl out of his trance and let go of his dick like it was a red hot poker. Shame and embarrassment coiled through his body as the enormity of what he had just done - what he had almost done - sunk in. This was Carol he was watching. _Carol._ She deserved better than the likes of him jerking off to an X-rated fantasy starring her ass. Yes, his thoughts had been drifting more and more to the woman with each passing day, but daydreaming was one thing; watching her bathe from the shadows was a lowlife move. One that he never imagined he'd be guilty of.

He wanted her. Not just because she was buck naked and soaped up like some sort of centrefold. Daryl had never wanted a woman as much as he did her, suds or not. He had wanted her from as far back as he could remember. Problem was, he was certain that if she knew exactly how he felt she would hightail it for the hills and never look back.

She was his friend. She'd already been married to one lowlife, she didn't need another one sniffing around her skirts. Hanging outside her cell door and watching her like had had was definitely a lowlife move. He couldn't lose her, not after everything they had been though. He couldn't jeopardize their friendship for something as selfish as thinking with his dick instead of his head!

Quickly he turned on his heel and headed back down the staircase, taking the steps two at a time in his haste. The metal creaked and groaned under his footfalls as he hurried to put as much distance between him and her as possible. He made no attempt to move silently through the block this time; he was too consumed with getting out of there before Carol caught on that she'd had an uninvited visitor.

There was no chance he was getting to sleep anytime soon, not in the condition he was in. He headed straight for the shower room downstairs in a bid to find some privacy. Last thing he wanted was for Carol to hear him rubbing one out in the cell next to hers. If she caught wind of that then she would know for certain he had been out on that walkway, watching her from the shadows like some sort of pussy-crazed stalker.

He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it. The moment the door the bathroom was locked and his hand was wrapped firmly around his cock, Daryl starting thinking back to how she had looked standing in that tub of water, covered in suds with beads of water trickling her naked skin. He dropped his head forward, wincing as it painfully connected with the solid metal door of the shower room.

She had him all tied up all right. Daryl didn't know what the hell to do to stop it. He didn't know if he even wanted to stop it. She deserved better than some guy like him, getting off from watching her bath.

He wished he could be a better man…a man that deserved her.

* * *

><p>Carol turned, her eyes searching the darkness but coming up with nothing. She had heard him out there, she knew she had. Daryl had the ability to move stealthily when needed, but she always knew when he was near. Call it a sixth sense, if such a thing existed.<p>

The swish of fabric moving up and down and the laboured grunt she'd heard also let her know exactly who had been watching from the walkway.

She let her gaze sweep over the doorway one last time before sighing in defeat, stepping out of the tub and wrapping the threadbare prison towel around her frame. She had hoped that her little 'shower' display would be enough to encourage Daryl to finally take the next step and make a move but she had apparently been wrong. They had been so close. She had heard every breath he took as he stood on the landing, watching her. She knew he had been debating whether or not to join her inside that tub.

For some reason he still wasn't taking the bait, no matter how hard she dangled the carrot.

Tomorrow she would try a different tactic. Something less...confronting. Something that didn't make him feel the need to hide in the shadows. Tomorrow she would convince him that he didn't need to hide from her at all.

There had been a reason she hadn't tried to cover the cell door with a sheet before she got in that tub.

**A/N: Thank you all for reading. This was written in response to the USS CARYL's 25 Days of Caryl October 3 Smut Challenge: All tied up (BDSM or not). I took some liberty with the 'all tied up' theme here, but I hope you enjoyed it none the less. I just found the thought of Daryl being figuratively all tied up when it came to Carol fascinating, hence why you just read this little voyeuristic moment above. I wanted to try my hand at a one-shot to get me back in the swig on things since I'm having trouble with all my WIP's. Hopefully, I might still be able to crank out something else for the challenge before the end date, so stay tuned for another prompt fill.**

**Again, thanks for reading and giving this fic a chance. Hope you enjoyed!**


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